A/N:
My interpretation of Basch's capture at Nalbina, and the flashback
dream that ensues.

No
Brother Of Mine

"You
must go to the king. I'll handle these!"

Reks'
face was flushed, but his eyes were resolute. Basch listened for the
rest of the unit as they moved ahead, and made a split second
decision.

"Fight
well," he said bracingly, and turned to follow his unit around the
corner.

They
were not there.

As
if from nowhere, six imperial guards swept down on him. One knocked
the sword from his hand and kicked it aside. Two grabbed his arms.
Another kicked him in the back of the leg, forcing him to the ground.
Still another grabbed his hair and pulled, forcing his head back. He
thrashed, and a gauntlet caught him hard across the face. He closed
his eyes against the blow, and felt blood flow from his nose as the
guard holding his head back threw him forward.

He
heard footsteps coming up the stair, the clank of armor, and then a
voice, so familiar it sent his heart into his mouth.

"We
may let you live long enough to see prison if you do not struggle,
Captain."

"Brother...?"

Basch
jerked his head up to look toward the voice, and stared into his own
face.

His
twin glared back at him, mirthless and cold. He was dressed crown to
heel as a Dalmascan knight, but his eyes spoke of a different fealty.

"I
have no brother, Captain. I am Gabranth, Judge Magister of the
Archadian Empire."

Gabranth
retrieved Basch's sword from the floor where it lay, examined the
pristine blade. It took Basch a long moment to find his voice; his
mouth had gone dry.

"I
. . . What sick riddle is this? What are you doing here?"

The
man glared, and sheathed Basch's sword in the empty scabbard
hanging from his belt.

"I
am sent to do that which you cannot."

Basch
frowned at the cryptic remark. "I do not understand."

His
brother scowled handsomely – fifteen years had done little to mar
his looks – and lifted his chin. "A man such as yourself,
indeed, cannot understand. Your duty is to preserve your country's
freedom, but it would seem the concept has, once again, eluded you.
Thus, I come to your aid."

Basch
struggled to comprehend this dance of words and came up short. "Noah,
what is the meaning of . . .?"

"You
will not speak to me this way!" Gabranth slashed Basch across
the face with his own sword. Blood spurted onto the floor and he
slumped forward, clutching the wound.

"Raminas
will die, brother," he heard his twin whisper in his ear, "And
you shall burn for it."

Gabranth
rose to his feet and addressed his men. "Take him through the back
to the Oubliette. Take care that you are not seen."

Basch
thrashed violently, but an Imperial smashed him across the face with
the back of one gauntlet. Three more men dragged the struggling
captain to his feet. He flailed and cursed, yelling at his brother's
back as he turned to flee. The sound of the young Dalmascan battling
valiantly around the corner on the stair was like a lifeline; Basch
scrambled for it, raising his voice in a scream.

"Treachery!
Treachery! Reks! Azelas! To Me, Knights! To Me!"

A
soldier punched him hard in the jaw; he felt it fracture as he
slumped forward, grunting in pain.

"By
the Gods, Noah..."

Gabranth
stopped, turned; his flint-blue eyes glittered mockingly.

"The
Gods, Basch? The Gods have no use for men such as you and I."

A
marksman hit Basch hard in the head with the butt of his gun, and he
knew no more.

*
* *

The
village of Ronsenburg lay silent and empty in the wee hours of the
morning. A waning moon hung in the sky, and Basch, a man of
twenty-one, crossed the courtyard of his childhood home. A large
traveling pack bulged on his shoulder. The weather-beaten wooden
gate at the South wall of the courtyard was as tall as he, framed by
an iron trellis supporting a blackberry cane older than Landis
itself. He paused at the gate, plucked a single fat berry from the
cane, and let the early-autumn sweetness of it fill his mouth one
last time.

Basch
turned back to look at the place he had called his home for as long
as he had lived. His mother lay sleeping within, a note lying in wait
beside her on the bedside table. She would weep, there was no doubt
of this. Regardless, Basch could not find it in his heart to stay any
longer, not when mortal fear of Archadia gripped Landis like the dead
of winter. If he could not convince his family to flee, even in the
face of imminent death, he would have to fly on his own.

Basch
startled from his thoughts as a figure emerged from behind the
ancient fruit tree that grew in the center of the courtyard. Its
face, caught in the scant light of the moon and creased with fatigue,
was identical to his own.

The
figure spoke. "What brings you into the garden in the dark of
night, brother?"

Basch
squared his shoulders, irritated by the pretext of curiosity. "I
would ask you the same, Noah."

"I
have been waiting for you here. I would know your intentions, Basch.
Your bag has been packed for days, and now there it is, slung on your
shoulder. Why?"

"An
airship will be carrying evacuees to Dalmasca in an hour. I told you
of it just this morning."

Noah
stepped closer to his brother, his face lit white by the lamp over
the gate. "You would truly run, Basch?"

.

"Noah,
the Empire would see us all dead! Ronsenburg is not safe anymore.
There are refugee camps in Bur-Omisace, and it is thought that the
Dalmascans will..."

His
brother cut across him. "Listen to your words, Basch. You speak of
fleeing your homeland. You would allow such cowardly thoughts to fall
from your lips? You shame me. You shame us both!"

Basch
persisted. "We may seek a new homeland beyond Landis' borders,
Brother. Please, fly with me. If you pack quickly, we can still leave
tonight."

Noah
lowered his voice, spoke slowly. "When Archadia escalates this
invasion, Landis must have forces in place to protect her people.
Surely you comprehend that?"

"Aye,
But . . ."

"Why
will you not enlist and fight beside me, Basch?" Noah bore down on
his twin, eyes wide with earnest. "In the Army, we can defend
Landis! We will be honored as heroes of the Republic, and when she is
free of Archadia, we may rise up stronger than ever!" Noah's face
darkened with patriotic furor unbefitting him, and a look bordering
on madness flickered in his eyes.

Basch
took a step back, shook his head. "You do not understand."

Noah
glared, stepped back as well. His hands were in fists, his knuckles
white. "Nay, indeed I do not."

Basch
slung his pack over his shoulder and began to walk away. He hesitated
and looked back at his brother, his heart heavy in his chest.

"Sorry
to leave you, Brother."

Noah
lifted his chin. After a long, burning moment, he turned away from
Basch and shouted, his voice echoing from the walls of the courtyard.

"You
are no brother of mine!"

Basch
bowed his head, turned his back on his twin, and walked through the
front gate, passing for the last time beneath the trellis laden heavy
with berries.

He
did not look back. He knew he would never return.

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